


If I could just show you...

by SerenePhenix



Category: Camp Camp (Web Series)
Genre: Character Study, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Mentions of child neglect, mentions of suicidal ideation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-06-26 11:38:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15662487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerenePhenix/pseuds/SerenePhenix
Summary: David’s aggressively positive outlook on life was hard-earned.





	If I could just show you...

**Author's Note:**

> PLz note that I wrote this before watching season 2 and that I have yet to watch season 3. Have fun guys!

David’s aggressively positive outlook on life was hard-earned.

It had to be, seeing as what he had faced before becoming a counselor at Camp Campbell had required him to adopt a cheery attitude, unless he wanted to face the facts and… make sure he no longer had to deal with reality. Permanently.

He gasped as he tried readjusting his pillow, the headache and stiff muscles in his neck making themselves more prominent than they had to be. He could have done without the slight concussion, but somehow he could not regret it in the slightest. After all, his accident had spurred the campers, the quartermaster, even Gwen into action. Something he never would have believed possible with how fast everything had spiraled out of control and gone downhill today.

It had been poor planning on his part - that much he could admit - and maybe Max was right about needing to revise the activity and depiction of the Natives altogether (as Max had hissed at him over roasting marshmallows after putting out most of the rampant fire). Still, the bonfire had been pretty enjoyable. And there hadn’t been too many burns that needed treating! Huuuge success in David’s book!

David allowed a quiet smile to pull at his lips as he listened to Gwen’s snores on the other side of the room divider – the only piece of furniture in their cabin that had not been provided when David had first let his small bag fall to the ground as he took in his new home. But he had felt it necessary once Gwen had joined him, and while she may have rolled her eyes at his ‘exaggerated concern about privacy and modesty’, David was sure he had not imagined the slightly grateful glint in her eyes the day he drove to town to purchase it.

The same town he had taken Max, Nikki and Neil on an unplanned joyride to. He had to hand it to them – they were a brave, adventurous little bunch.

Much braver than he had been at their age.

While he could not see the pictures on it from this angle or in this poor lighting, David made out the frame of the wooden memory board hanging just beside the illuminated window.

The pictures of the kids and him, as well as those of his own stay here at Camp Campbell. Looking at them and at his bright smile, it was hard to associate the grinning kid with curious eyes to a home than had been less than nurturing.

David remembered how people, people he’d like to call ‘friends’ tentatively in his own head, had repeatedly told him it was not just a lack of nurturing.

Shitty parenting. Neglect. Abuse.

Those were the words they had attributed to David’s home situation. Even today, David was reluctant to call it abuse. Abuse was a harsh word. A heavy accusation. One that he really did not want to apply to his family.

The thin blanket was coarse as he twiddled it between his fingers nervously, trying to keep his heart from speeding up involuntarily.

His family was not made up of bad people. David was convinced of that. At least, not the kind of bad people that murdered or participated in illegal activities to get rich at the expense of others.

His parents were good people. His mother was always kind and helpful to the folks in their town. She was there to lend them an ear and good advice, engaged herself in a lot of activities to help the community become a better place. His father was ambitious and focused. Any project entrusted to him was sure to be finished surely and to almost perfection.

His parents were good people. It wasn’t their fault they had gotten a kid unplanned, and it wasn’t their fault either that David did not want to follow in their footsteps, take over the family business. It wasn’t their fault David was not the most gifted child, or the strongest, or most ingenious, or the most charismatic.

And neither was it David’s fault for not being any of those things. If he repeated that mantra long enough, he might start getting some precious air again, and hopefully stop panicking. He did not want to wake Gwen up, not when she had worked so hard.

Because that was also something David had going for himself: he was hardworking and he was patient. And it had paid off today!

Even if Max’s words had stung. A lot. A lot more than the words of a ten-year-old should.

And David had meant it. He was not blind, and maybe not as dumb as most people liked to believe -himself included.

Pretending only could get you so far. But so did giving up before really trying.

There were a lot of instances in his life where David could have given up. He soldiered through most of those but he still does regret having dropped out of high school in his junior year. Sometimes he wonders if he could have made it. Hey, maybe he might have even made it as far as college, gotten a “useless” degree like Gwen. But a degree nonetheless.

But he would never know, just as he would never know if it would have been the wrong decision in the end. There had been a reason after all why he had quitted, why he had left not only his education but also his home behind.

His parents weren’t bad people. But they were demanding, they were reserved, and perfectionist, and pretty unforgiving.

His parents were not bad people, but they had been, without any doubt, bad parents to a kid like David.

He knew it was silly, but even just the memory of his father’s disappointed look at his average grades or the sting of a slap he got whenever his whining grated on his mother’s already frayed nerves, was enough to make the room feel as if the temperature had dropped several degrees.

Middle school had stressed him out to the point of having to fight himself not to throw up his meals at every chance he got. There had not been any friends he could have counted on picking him up; not when he had been the laughing stock in the first place.

His overly positive attitude had not been all too charming to his fellow pre-teens even back then. In fact, a lot of his interactions with them were not too dissimilar to the ones he was having with some of the kids here at camp. But David had always needed to look at the good things in his everyday life.

It was what had soothed over comments about his lack of taste in fashion from his mother, or the belligerent sighs coming from his father when he did not understand his explanation to a complicated arithmetical problem. It had made it easier to forget when his mother told him, almost absentmindedly as she checked her e-mails, that he probably did not have friends because he was a boring person to be around. It had allowed him to not cry every time his father would scrutinize him, his expression close to pitying when it came to David’s failed attempts to impress him with something he had made with his own two hands.

David felt his breath hitch and his eyes itching something fiercely. Stupid concussion. It was messing with his head, the neat compartmentalizing he had perfected over the years, making every thought spill out like clothes from an overturned dresser.

He wiped his nose on a small corner of his blanket, too sore to even attempt reaching for the nightstand and the package of handkerchiefs stored in its drawer.

But maybe it was not only the concussion.

Maybe it had been the past few days that had hit a little too close to home for his comfort.

Camp Campbell had been his safe space the moment he had arrived here as a kid, about the same age as most of those that were here right now. It was a remote place, far away from everything David had known and anyone that could possibly know him.

It had been a reprieve, from expectations he could not meet. Here, amidst nature and other youths enjoying doing practical work, David had found a place where he fit; where people actually did enjoy his company specifically because he was undemanding and positive no matter the circumstances.

And he had enjoyed it for the entirety of the four stays his parents had allowed, until they had considered him too old to join a summer camp anymore.

Arguing with them, David had learned, would not lead to anything. So, he had accepted. That had not made the cold spot in his chest any smaller or any less crushing.

Because wherein lay the truth: David had _always_ wanted to be here, in this camp.

This was David’s home. A place where he had found happiness and a sense of belonging.

And maybe Max was right in his observation that David’s wish to recreate these same feelings for these kids was both naïve and maybe a little presumptuous.

Because not everyone was like him. The majority of these kids, maybe all of them, were here because their parents had wanted them to enjoy their passion: whether that was music, or acting, or science, or simply the outdoors. And Nurf, well, his mother had only had the best in mind for his future. There was nothing reproachable about that.

And it hurt, in a very primal way, that the only thing that made David feel happy and worthwhile was being brushed off or ridiculed on a regular basis. That every conviction and virtue he held close to his heart, was losing its meaning in a world that was becoming more desensitized and apathetic and individualistic with each year.

But as he’d told Max in the pouring rain, with as much conviction as when he had shaken off his father’s grip on his arm in the closing bus door, someone has to care.

Someone has to take charge, and if that someone had to be David he would gladly rise to the challenge. Because David had learned nobody would hand him his happiness on a silver platter. It was up to him to build his own happiness.

The snort he let out jarred his head, making him mumble noiselessly in distress at the pain.

Maybe he should add stubborn to his list of qualities. Then that’d make three in total. Not too shabby, all things considered.

A groan came from the other side of the room, followed by a voice heavy with exhaustion.

“David, you still alive? God, please be still alive. I can’t handle the campers all on my own.”

He decided it was best to not chuckle, but the humor was not lost in his reply.

“No worries, Gwen. Just woke myself up sneezing. I’m fine.”

He wanted to believe that the drowsy answer he got was an “Okay” but he could not be entirely sure. Soon enough, soft snores filled the space between them again, the first pitter patter of another oncoming downpour joining in a short while later.

David watched as the raindrops drew fine lines against the glass of the window.

He was asleep before he even noticed himself drifting off.


End file.
